


deaf ears

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Pining Derek, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles calls Derek, drunk, at 3am unsure of his place in the pack.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Stiles was cut off by his own soft whimper, sniffling as he tried composing himself. Voice wavering, he pleaded, “I need you to tell me I’m part of the pack.”<em></em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	deaf ears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wake_me_up_AV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wake_me_up_AV/gifts).



> For the ❄ prompt: 10. "They won't listen to me."
> 
> [Send me a prompt!](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)

“They won’t listen to me.”

“Wha?” Derek mumbled huskily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes enough to blearily read the numbers on his alarm clock―3:54 a.m. 

The phone call had roused him from a deep sleep after a long day of training with the pack before taking a long, arduous run through the preserve and vigorously working out until exhaustion took over and he managed to throw together a quick dinner and fall into bed. He’d only picked up the phone because of the very real possibility of a serious threat. Instead what he got was a very distraught, very drunk Stiles.

“The pack! They won’t listen to me!” Stiles cried over the phone. He sounded miserable, voice somewhat nasally like he was on the verge of tears. Derek was immediately concerned.

“What’s going on, Stiles? Are you okay?” Derek asked sitting up, conjuring up a plethora of horrible scenarios in his head. Stiles’ voice was thick, his words slurred just enough to be noticeable. He was indeed very drunk. That only worried Derek more.

“No! They won’t listen to me, Derek! They never listen to me!” Stiles sobbed openly. Derek’s breath caught in his throat at the soft sound of Stiles crying. “I don’t know what to do! I just-I just need you to tell me―”

Stiles was cut off by his own soft whimper, sniffling as he tried composing himself. Voice wavering, he pleaded, “I need you to tell me I’m part of the pack.”

Derek was thoroughly confused, inquiring, “Stiles, what? You know―”

“No! I need to hear you say it!” Stiles wept, frustration and desperation infused in every word.

“Of course you’re part of the pack, Stiles,” Derek began sincerely, biting his lip and pausing before he revealed more than he intended, more than he could. But hearing Stiles’ soft sniffled over the line, Derek threw caution to the wind and continued, not caring how dangerous it was to bare his heart again, “Stiles, you’re what keeps the pack together. The one who makes sure we’re alright after every fight. The one who takes of care us even if it’s just ordering takeout for us. God, Stiles, we’d be completely lost without you. I mean without you who’d constantly be saving our asses and then lecturing us about throwing ourselves into harm’s way?”

Stiles let out a small, watery laugh. The sound made Derek’s heart beat faster. He heard a rustle of fabric over the line, assuming Stiles was wiping his eyes as he very softly asked, “Really?”

“Of course, Stiles,” Derek replied, smiling sincerely despite the fact that he knew Stiles couldn’t see it. Growing serious again, he asked, “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“Actually, I was wondering…” Stiles asked cautiously, voice shaky, “Can-Can I come over?”

Derek was already out of bed grabbing his keys. Pulling on his boots, he asked, “Where are you? I’ll pick you up.”

“Umm… I’m actually already here…” Stiles admitted shyly. A second later Derek heard a knock on the heavy steel door of the loft. He didn’t think he’d ever ran as fast. 

Stiles collapsed heavily into Derek’s arms the moment Derek slid the door open to let him, slurring, “Hey, Der.”

Derek wrinkled his nose, the stench of whiskey hitting him full force. He supported Stiles with a hand curled around his waist as he tugged the door shut. 

Stiles nestled his face into Derek’s chest, arms looping around his waist as Derek led him to the couch where he gently set Stiles down. Stiles clung to him desperately, murmuring nonsense into the soft cotton of Derek’s Henley, fisting his hands in the fabric at Derek’s waist. 

Sitting beside him on the couch, Derek combed his fingers through Stiles’ messy hair, letting him cry into his chest. Soon Stiles’ small, soft sobs faded away into snores. Derek smiled down at the boy in his arms, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he leaned back to get more comfortable on the cushions.

Tonight he would sleep and in the morning he’d tell Stiles just how important he was to the pack, how important he was to Derek. 


End file.
